


I'm a Marionette

by spikesgirl58



Series: ABBA/Foothills [60]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can Napoleon and Illya read each other's minds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm a Marionette

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.  
_

_Remember me to one who lives there._

_She once was a true love of mine_.

 

He’d had the song running through his head all day.  He didn’t know why.  He didn’t even like Simon and Garfunkel.  Napoleon shook his head slightly as if that would dislodge it.

That’s when he realized Illya was whistling softly as he worked at the stove and the tune came as a shock.

“Illya, why are you whistling that?”

“No idea.  It just came to me.  Why?”  Illya stopped in his preparation of dinner.  “Is there a problem?”

“It’s just a funny coincidence, I guess.  I’ve been thinking of that song since this morning and suddenly you are whistling it.”

“Huh...”  Illya returned to his task.  He began to careful trickle the cream into the sauce.  Too fast and it would break.  Too slowly, it would cook to a solid mass.  Just the right speed led to paradise for the palate.

“Do you ever think about it?”

“Think about what?”

“How tuned into each other we are.  Sometimes it’s a little scary.”

“I don’t worry about it.  If you could read my mind, you’d go blind.”  There was a knock.  “That must be Matt and Rocky. Would you let them in?  Apps…”

“I know, lower shelf and to the right.”

“How did you…?  Never mind, just keep Matt busy out there.”  Illya laughed.

                                                                                ****

_“Cara_ , I cannot believe you aren’t Italian.  How do you know how to roast fennel like that?  My _Nonna_ , she cooked like that.  And Portofino lamb with artichoke risotto, it was exquisite.”  Matt gave Illya a kiss.  “I have not been so spoiled since… since…”

“…your last birthday,” Rocky finished, pouring the last of the wine into his partner’s glass.

_“Si!”_

“See?  You do it, too!” Napoleon looked up from his task of uncorking another bottle of wine.  

“I do what, Mr. S?”  Rocky held out his glass.

“You finish each other sentences.

“My Dad told me that was the sign of a happy marriage.”

“Oh, and why is that?”  Illya began to clear, gesturing Rocky to stay seated.

“He said that when a couple is content and they share not just their love, but their lives, that the final barrier falls and they truly become one in body and spirit.”

“That sounds a little… I don’t know… spooky creepy.”  Matt took a swallow of wine and burped quietly.  “ _Excusi.”_

“Not at all.  Think about it.  We work together and we live together.  We spend most of the day within arm’s reach of one another.  I see something, it hits the same memory triggers for me as it does for you.  You and Chef, well, you’ve been together twice as long, it would only stand to reason.”

Illya returned, carrying a cream cake.  Matt squealed with delight and Illya winced slightly.  “Good grief, Matthew, you’re turning thirty five, surely you’re still not a castrato.”

“Only for special events, _Cara!”_

_****_

Napoleon wiggled his toes beneath the covers and watched the young cats attack them.  Roux’s rear end wiggled and then she pounced.  Her siblings were right behind her.

Illya climbed into bed and sighed as he leaned back against the pillow.  “Thank you for all your help today.”

“I didn’t do much.”  Napoleon abandoned the cats for his own favorite squeeze toy, gathering a willing Illya into his arms

“ _Au Contraire_ , you did and do more than you realize.  You keep me from going over the deep edge.”  For a moment, silence prevailed and then Illya murmured, “Do you really think we can read each other’s minds?”

“I do.”

“Then tell me what I’m thinking.”

For a moment Napoleon was quiet and then he kissed Illya’s temple.  “I can’t.  The love keeps getting in the way.”


End file.
